


Double Trouble, Triple Threat

by AlexSeanchai



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Autistic Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Doppelganger, Female Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Identity Issues, Identity Reveal, Minor Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Minor Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Misgendering, Multi, Podfic Welcome, Puns & Word Play, Queer Themes, Trans Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22062580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSeanchai/pseuds/AlexSeanchai
Summary: "Oh, my, look at the time!" exclaimed Adrien, who was not, in fact, looking at the time. "I thinkMarinette and Ishould go catch up with Nino and Alya, andLadybug and Chat Noirshould go figure out what the fuck is going on here, andCatherineshould—"Adrien stopped. Stared at me."Have the time of our life?" I asked, deadpan.Chat snorted. Adrien laughed.Ladybug heaved a sigh. "All right. Fine. Let's stop dancing around it. Why are there two of me and three of you?"(Begun for NaNoWriMo 2018, using only canon preceding Heroes' Day.)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 11
Kudos: 111





	1. Wishbun

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Merrythought](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15787977) by [Socchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socchan/pseuds/Socchan). 



"Bye-bye, little butterfly," Ladybug said, waving the purified akuma off. The akuma victim previously known as TNTea was getting to her feet on the far side of the lane and looking around nervously. Ladybug could hardly blame the woman for her worry; this fight had certainly…boiled over explosively.

"Well, that was quick," Chat Noir observed, coming up alongside and offering Ladybug her fist.

Any excuse for Ladybug to touch Chat, honestly, though that wasn't how the fistbump ritual had started. "Pound it!"

"Not that I'm complaining," Chat continued, watching with her as the akuma victim's sister ran up, the two women exchanging a torrent of words in, if Ladybug had to guess, Hindi. "I was already overbooked today, and I hate making excuses." The sister threw her arms around the woman. "No matter _how_ good our reasons," Chat added.

Ladybug pulled a face. "I know what you mean. I'm late for a meeting with some friends right now." Alya and Nino weren't going to do anything worse than mock her until Adrien's discomfort or her own shut them down, but that never made Marinette feel less bad about breaking a promise. "But I couldn't exactly let a supervillain go unchecked! Some days I wish I could be in two places at once."

Chat nodded. "Or more." The akuma victim was looking their way; Chat threw her a thumbs up. "Sometimes," she continued to Ladybug, "I think about what life would be like if Timebreaker had worked out differently."

Ladybug, who resembled that remark more often than she cared to admit, rolled her eyes and shoved her partner's shoulder in good humor. "I'm sure you do, alleycat. I remember that 'two Ladybugs' remark of yours!"

"Not like that!" Chat protested, then paused. "Well, okay, _sometimes_ like that." She winked, grinning; ducked Ladybug's try at bopping her nose; and sobered. "But mostly I wish you had someone else who could back you up. Your powers are the ones that ultimately fix things, not mine. And I think it would help ease the pressure on you if there was someone else who could take care of them from time to time. Not to mention deal with the press and all the public expectations…" Chat shuddered dramatically.

Ladybug smiled back at her. "That's sweet of you." _Yeah, I wish we both had backup._ "For the record, I think it also would have been nice if Copycat hadn't been a villain, so you could have some backup, too. I know you've got a lot on your plate, and having an extra Chat Noir around from time to time could help you out with that." She shook her head, looking around. "None of which helps much with _today_." An expansive gesture encompassed the city block.

Two street lamps away, a bubble rose from one of the puddles of tea and went bang.

Chat Noir winced. "Any idea how to fix all this, since we didn't need your Lucky Charm to beat it?"

Good question. "I think, if I summon my Lucky Charm now, it'll still work," Ladybug replied. It was worth a try, at least. "I've used it outside of a battle before, but never without an active akuma present."

Her partner shrugged. "It's worth a try, right?"

Ladybug nodded, contemplating again the whims and fancies of the universe's jokes on her; she had never been, and at this rate never would be, this in sync with Adrien. _Oh, Chat. I wish it were as easy to be Adrien's friend as it is to be yours. I wish I could love you like you want me to. Like I love him._

"Lucky Charm!" she called out. Caught the object born of Tikki's power and her own desire. Raised her eyebrows. "A wishbone?"

"Well?" said Chat. "Try it, My Lady!"

She shook her head. "It's not quite that simple. See, in order for the Miraculous Cure to work, the Lucky Charm has to be _used_. Remember Animan?"

Chat Noir shuddered. "Only every other nightmare."

Ladybug smiled—after Timebreaker, she _felt_ that—and put one hand on her shoulder. "Well, the only reason I went back in was because I hadn't used the Lucky Charm for anything. If I hadn't used it to open Animan's mouth, nothing would have gone back to normal after, even though we could have captured and cleansed the akuma without it. Half the zoo would still be running loose, and that bus and everything would still be destroyed."

"Hmm," Chat said thoughtfully. "Well, I can't say I agree with your methods, Bugaboo, but I guess I can understand why you jumped into a T-rex's mouth, now. How do we use this one, then?"

Ladybug shrugged and held one end of the wishbone out to her. "The same way we use normal wishbones, I would think: Make a wish, and then pull."

Chat's eyes lit up. "I know what _I'm_ wishing for!" she declared, and winked again in her usual flirtatious manner.

"Dream on, kitty," Ladybug countered.

_I know you wish you knew who I am behind this mask. I wish I knew who you are, too. But I don't wish that hard enough to risk anyone you love or anyone who loves you._

_I know you wish you could tell the whole world you're a girl, not just me. I wish you could, too. But I don't wish that hard enough to risk your safety or your life._

_I wish we could just **end** this already—get Hawkmoth's Miraculous and be **done**. It would be safe then._

"Ready to go?" Ladybug asked, and Chat Noir smiled at her. "On three. One, two, _three_!"

With a snap, the wishbone came apart between them. "Huh," Chat said, turning her piece over in her hands. "I've never seen one split down the middle like that. I didn't think the bone's structural integrity pattern would let that happen." She grinned. "I guess this means we're _both_ getting our wish!"

"There's a nice thought," Ladybug replied. Taking Chat Noir's half of the wishbone from her, she tossed both pieces into the air, calling out "Miraculous Ladybug!" to activate the spell to heal the city. Her magical glowing ladybugs swarmed the street to either side, evaporating the tea and replacing shredded brickwork with good-as-new, and swept them both up in localized twisters before vanishing.

She blinked the sparkles from her eyes. Gaped. 

_That's impossible._

* * *

Being swept up in the torrent of miraculous ladybugs didn't, Chat Noir observed, usually feel like jumping into a bonfire. And being released didn't usually feel so like the warmth of a fireplace and the laughter of friends.

—Speaking of friends.

"Marinette?" asked Ladybug, glancing at the ladybug-brought friend between us with wide eyes and creased brow, and something about Ladybug's tone of voice—

" _Adrien_?" squawked—my _own_ voice, as I'd heard it on recordings. _Chat Noir's_ voice, coming from a familiar face wearing Chat Noir's mask, behind which those absurdly green eyes darted between Ladybug and Marinette and me and—I turned my head—there was no mistaking the face I saw in the mirror every day.

"What the hell is going on here?" demanded Adrien, gawking between me and Chat.

Marinette flicked a glance around the circle. "Balcony?" she asked.

"Too exposed," Ladybug snapped back without venom. "School roof?"

"News choppers. Tower?"

"Tower," Ladybug agreed, the whole exchange rapid-fire, and grabbed Marinette around the waist and flung out her yo-yo and soared across the rooftops.

"What the fuck," said Chat Noir.

I shot Chat a glare. "Are we following or what?"

"Following," said Adrien at once.

Chat snorted and extended the staff to pole-vault mode. "All aboard!"

With triple the mass to carry, vaulting across the roofs had to take a lot more force than usual, but Chat managed it without apparent effort. Bizarre to be riding shotgun—well, on Chat's back (Adrien was clinging to Chat's front)—instead of driving stick here. My hair kept blowing into my face—

My hair wasn't _long enough_ to blow into my face.

"What the _fuck_ ," I repeated. "The thing the Charm chose to fix is my _hairstyle_?"

"And your outfit," Adrien said helpfully, and I twisted my head around to look. Knee-length denim skirt, white tee and tights, low black heels—and leaving aside the bit where Father would have a heart attack and _die_ at the sight of the denim vest's ragged hems—

"Oh Gods Father's going to kill me," I said into Chat's shoulder. Chat and Adrien would understand if anyone would.

"Not if he—doesn't—see you," Chat answered, a little out of breath.

"Guess I'm the sacrificial lamb," grumbled Adrien.

One more vault took us to the spot on the Eiffel Tower that was ours alone, Ladybug's and Chat Noir's. I slid off Chat's back and perched on the beam, trying not to look down—it was a lot farther without a magic stick in my hand. Ladybug and Marinette were already there, Ladybug holding tight to Marinette as Marinette flailed fit to fall off entirely.

"—and then he'll _hate_ me and _I want to meet Emma_ and—"

Ladybug glanced up; whipped her yo-yo around the beams to form a sort of railing. "We'll figure this out," she told Marinette firmly. "We _will_."

Adrien leaned back against the rows of cord, staring across the city. Chat sprawled along the beam, heaving for breath.

"Chat?" asked Ladybug. "Are you all right? Adrien? And—I'm sorry," she said, looking at me, "I don't know your name—"

I didn't suppose I had one. _Chat Noir_ belonged to the person who put on the mask to escape the trap in which _Adrien Agreste_ lived, and _I_ —

I might be only a dream, given temporary flesh by the Lucky Charm's power. I glanced down at myself, at the skirt I had never before dared wear even in my own bedroom, at the strong curves of my body where there had been only muscled planes, and I pulled my hair out of my face again.

—Well, if this lovely idle theme were no more yielding than a dream, and I—Adrien—couldn't catch hell for it later—

"Come on, pretty lady," said Chat, head lifting enough to smirk at me. "Introduce yourself."

Adrien glanced at me and gave a thumbs up, slight smile unwavering.

Seemed I was in agreement with myself and me. "My name's—"

My throat stopped up. If the Lucky Charm had tripled _me_ because Ladybug had wanted an extra Chat Noir or two—

—and I did, vividly, recall that Timebreaker-inspired fantasy of two Ladybugs—

I glanced down at my hands, bare but for a vivid green coat of nail polish.

"Here," said Marinette softly, tugging first a ribbon, then an elastic out of her hair. "Your hair must be getting in the way." She held them out to me.

"I—thanks," I said, taking the elastic and twisting my hair up with it.

Marinette smiled, pure kind delight that I had never before seen her show me when I wasn't masked, and took down her other pigtail. Ladybug took the hair things in silence, Marinette combed her fingers through her hair, and Ladybug tied Marinette's hair into a single low tail.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell us who you are," Ladybug told me, smiling like she might at a stranger.

"Catherine." I bit out the two syllables, emphasizing the _t_ so she couldn't miss the pun.

Ladybug and Marinette blinked twice in wide blue unison.

I glanced away, rubbing my fingertips on the thin fabric over my knees. Father really would kill me, if he knew. "My name's Catherine."

"Ladybug?" asked Adrien, a welcome distraction. "I thought when you used your Lucky Charm—"

One red-gloved hand leaped to one black-dotted earring.

"It's been more than five minutes," said Marinette. "Hasn't it?"

"I didn't hear any beeps," Ladybug said, sounding dazed. "I—she—"

Marinette popped open her purse, frowned down into it, and pulled out a baggie with the D-C bakery logo that she handed to Ladybug, who tore into the chocolate chip cookies inside. Ladybug paused halfway through the second cookie. "Anyone else hungry?"

"I hear the Dupain-Cheng bakery has the sweetest cookies in town," I said, while Adrien looked at Ladybug with big hopeful eyes and Chat held out an imperious hand without getting up.

Ladybug snorted and started passing out cookies. "I doubt it. We're not _Americans_ , to ruin the dough with too much sugar."

Marinette's eyes went wide.

Ladybug froze.

"They!" she exclaimed. " _They're_ not Americans!"

"My Lady," said Chat, sitting up finally. "Are you telling me you _bake_?"

"I, uh," said Ladybug.

"I knew it," Chat said, and winked. "I know a sweetie pie when I see one."

Ladybug rolled her eyes, a tiny smile peeking out.

"Seriously, Ladybug," said Adrien, "it really has been more than five minutes since Lucky Charm—"

"It can't have," said Ladybug. "I'd _know_. I _know_ when my time's getting short—"

"Cut the crap, Bug," said Chat. "We're all thinking the same thing. Claws in."

Ladybug gasped; Marinette squeaked; both covered their eyes.

"Yeah," said Chat, "that's what I thought would happen. Fuck-all. Not that I'd have a _problem_ with revealing my big secret to you lovely ladies."

Marinette peeked between her fingers. Ladybug shifted one hand.

"You want to try, LB?" continued Chat.

"Not really," said Ladybug shakily, but she dropped her hands. Marinette put one hand on her shoulder, and Ladybug said, "Spots off."

When nothing happened, Ladybug exhaled and slumped over, leaning against her yo-yo–cord railing. "Tikki," she murmured.

"Your kwami?" I asked.

Ladybug's gaze snapped to me. Marinette's jaw dropped.

"What," Ladybug asked with precise enunciation, "do you know, about kwamis?"

I shrugged. "More than most, less than you. I'd show you why except I seem to have lost my ring."

"Your ring," Ladybug repeated flatly.

Adrien held up a hand, showing fingers more bare than mine. "My ring."

"Excuse you both," said Chat.

"And Marinette," I said, because even if the next thing she did was pitch me off the Tower then at least I would have had these few minutes, "I bet you don't have your earrings."

Marinette's hands shot up to her earlobes: her eyes blew wide, squeezed shut. "No no no this isn't happening this is _not happening_ —" She lost her words to her hyperventilation.

"Hey," said Ladybug to her, moving to hold Marinette. "I'm right here."

"Yes but—!"

"Oh, my, look at the time!" exclaimed Adrien, who was not, in fact, looking at the time. "I think _Marinette and I_ should go catch up with Nino and Alya, and _Ladybug and Chat Noir_ should go figure out what the fuck is going on here, and _Catherine_ should—"

Adrien stopped. Stared at me.

"Have the time of our life?" I asked, deadpan.

Chat snorted. Adrien laughed.

Ladybug heaved a sigh. "All right. Fine. Let's stop dancing around it. Why are there two of me and three of you?"

 _Te_ , Ladybug had said, and now corrected herself aloud, glancing at me: _vous_.

I couldn't tell if she meant I was a stranger, who—unlike Adrien or Chat—needed the personal distance of the formal pronoun, or simply that there were three of us.

"Fuck this noise," I said to myself, and looked straight at the nose of Ladybug's mask. "My name is Catherine. For my sins, I answer to Adrien Agreste. And when Paris needs me, or Ladybug needs me, or I can't stand being _him_ another moment—" I glanced apologetically at Adrien; none of us deserved the venom in my voice. "—then I become the dashing, debonair, and forever doomed hero Chat Noir."

Ladybug turned to stare at Adrien. Marinette turned to stare at Chat.

"Oh my gods," mumbled Marinette.

"Seriously," said Adrien, "can we get a lift down from here? Nino and Alya will be wondering where Marinette and I are."

* * *

"Where _is_ that girl?" muttered Alya, checking her phone. No new messages, no missed calls, no indication that the earlier messages had been seen…

"Hey, maybe we got lucky and _they_ got luckier," Nino said, laughing. Alya scooped a stick off the ground and pitched it at him; he ducked.

"Just because he's late too—"

"I'm serious, dude," he added, dodging Alya's next projectile. "Turn around and look!"

Alya spun around. A trio of teenagers were entering the park; she didn't recognize the tall blonde in the distressed denim—not Chloé, thank all that's holy, because the other two were _certainly_ Marinette and Adrien, and, well. While _Alya_ wouldn't bet Nino's way? Judging by how Marinette's body language had loosened up and Adrien's tensed, _something_ had clearly changed.

The unfamiliar girl draped an arm over each of Marinette's and Adrien's shoulders, squishing the two blushing teens together in her embrace.

—A very _interesting_ something.

"Who's she?" Nino asked.

Alya grinned at him. "Let's go find out."

Across the park, Adrien disentangled himself from the two girls and waved to Alya and Nino, starting to jog over, Marinette and the blonde right behind. "Sorry we're late!" Adrien called when he got close enough. "Got caught in an akuma attack."

" _Adrien_ ," said Nino, shaking his head.

"Adrien, Adrien, my sweet sunshine child _Adrien_ ," said Alya.

"Shut up the both of you," grouched Marinette. "You're making a bad impression."

"…really," said Alya, folding her arms and eyeing Marinette with exaggerated suspicion, then lifting her gaze to meet the blonde's eyes. Marinette hadn't made any attempt to unwind the girl's arm from her own shoulders; the blonde, noticing Alya noticing, flushed a pretty pink and looked up at the clouds, her free hand rubbing the back of her neck.

"Don't worry, dudes," Nino said with his usual cheer. "Alya just lost a bet is all." He held out a hand to the blonde. "I'm Nino."

She looked at his hand, then down at Marinette; both girls blushed. The blonde let Marinette go and shook Nino's hand. "Catherine. I'm—new in town."

"This is Alya," Marinette told Catherine. "She runs the Ladyblog, she loves superhero comics, and she wants to win the Pulitzer."

"Nino's going to be the world's most badass DJ," Adrien added.

Catherine smiled, offering her hand for Alya to shake. "It's lovely to meet you both."

"So how do you know Marinette and Adrien?" Alya asked.

They and Catherine all winced.

"Put it this way," said Marinette. "Picture Ladybug rescuing a cute little stray kitten from a tree—that's Catherine—and handing her off to the nearest available fosters."

"That's us," added Adrien, grinning.

Catherine put her face in her hands. "I can't take you anywhere."

"Seriously, Alya," Marinette added, quieter. "She—can't go home right now. Chat Noir asked us to keep her out of trouble."

Alya nodded, solemn. If Marinette had told Ladybug and Chat Noir about the plans for the evening, then it made even more sense; Ladybug trusted Alya with the Fox Miraculous, after all…

"So!" said Nino brightly. "We were meeting up to go window shopping, hit some of the boutiques, get Marinette some ideas for Alya's knock-'em-dead outfit for when she makes her journalistic red-carpet debut." He slung an arm around Alya's shoulders. "My girl here scored a media pass for next week's charity gala and Mademoiselle Star Designer there won't let Alya buy anything off the rack." He grinned. "Not that Mademoiselle Star Journalist was going to let this opportunity to show off Marinette's designs go to waste. Wanna come with, Catherine?"

"Star designer?" Catherine repeated, looking at Marinette. "Well, how can I turn down watching you work?"

Marinette rolled her eyes, blushing. "Easily. Say no."

"What, and disappoint Ladybug?" said Catherine and Adrien in unison; they glanced at each other and started snickering.

Marinette turned on her heel, put her nose in the air, and started to walk away.

Adrien caught up to her first. "You know we didn't mean it like that," he said softly—but not enough that Alya didn't hear.

"I know," said Marinette, equally quietly. "I just…" She fiddled with the strap of her purse. "Don't you ever feel like it's…too _much_?"

Adrien snorted and stuck his hands in his pockets. "All the time. Why do you think—" He cut himself off, his head twitching in a manner that suggested noticing the other three getting closer.

"I wondered." Marinette turned and, at a usual conversational volume, continued, "So, Catherine, what do you want to do when you grow up?"

"Make people happy," said Catherine at once. "Do something good for the world."

"Join the club," muttered Adrien.

"Say, Adrien," said Nino, suddenly thoughtful, "did we ever ask you what you want to do for a living?"

Adrien laughed bitterly. "You're asking the wrong question," he told them. "Try, did _anyone_ ever ask me what I want to do with my life."

"Oh," said Marinette, sounding very sad. "Oh, Adrien."

"Your dad," said Alya with feeling, "is an _asshole_."

"No, no," said Adrien without vehemence. He kicked a pebble along the sidewalk. "He's just…very…focused," he decided. "Determined."

"Determined to be an asshole," said Catherine, and held her hands up in a surrender gesture when Alya turned to stare at her inquisitively. "I study textile engineering. Gabriel Fashions isn't the world leader there, but they're pretty close."

Marinette lit up. "I keep wanting to design [something that needs better textile engineering than what fabric retail stores sell]—"

"—but retail stores don't sell fabric of the right quality," Catherine finished, visibly excited. She kept going, hands waving illustratively, but inside of five words she and Marinette were into technical terms Alya didn't grasp.

"I say again," Nino said to Adrien. "What do you want to do for a living?"

Adrien shrugged. "Physics. Mesons. Or if I can get enough ducks in a row, the ways Newtonian physics goes super weird around Miraculous magic. But none of that is of _practical_ use." Judging by his expression, he wasn't even angry; just sad.

"Oh, _honey_ ," said Alya.

"—but if we substitute [technical term]—" said Catherine, no longer noticing them.

"—[something technical and involved that sounds like it'll work]!" said Marinette in delight.

Nino leaned in closer to Alya. "Are we witnessing our girl's queer awakening?"

Alya looked the two girls over with a critical eye. Catherine _did_ have a strong physical resemblance to Adrien. "Guess Mari's got a type."


	2. Strangely Charmed

"Everyone at the gala is going to be in red or black," Marinette said thoughtfully, regarding a sleeveless burgundy mermaid gown. "Maybe orange, yellow, or green."

"I like orange," Alya noted. "Also red."

"We know." Marinette stifled her amusement. "But didn't you _specifically_ say _Ladybug_ said she wanted you to stand out from the crowd?"

"Wait," Catherine said, " _Ladybug_ scored Alya's press pass?"

"Yup!" Nino grinned. "She's the only reporter they can trust, except sometimes Nadja Chamack, or something."

" _Badass_ ," said Catherine in awe. (It had to be feigned—Marinette remembered talking to Chat Noir about this plan weeks ago—but _Marinette_ wasn't about to call attention to that.) "So if we're ruling out those five color groups, what's left? Blue, violet, white, gray, and brown?"

" _Not_ violet," said three people at once. Alya shuddered. "That's not just courting danger, that's asking danger's parents' blessing."

"Ladybug and Chat Noir will be _right there_ ," Marinette reminded her, fingering one of the gloves that went with the overwrought burgundy mermaid. "Come look at this beading."

Alya leaned over one of Marinette's shoulders, Catherine the other. "Ooh, that's pretty," said Catherine. "You wouldn't see it at any distance, though, unless the beads were a contrasting color. What's wrong with violet?"

"Wow," said Adrien, tone utterly flat, "you really _are_ new in town."

"Shut up, Adrien," Marinette said with a sigh, ducking backward under both girls and straightening up. "It's not her fault." What would Marinette say to someone who really _didn't_ know? "Catherine, I'll catch you up tonight, okay?"

"Okay. Not violet." Catherine regarded the burgundy horror. "And I'm thinking not neutrals either."

"Not if Ladybug wants Alya to stand out we're not," agreed Adrien.

"That," said Marinette, pleased, "rather reduces the possibilities." She grinned at Alya. "And it's on theme, even. You know how Ladybug has blue eyes, and her hair looks bluish under some lights?"

"No," said Alya, awed. "Yes! I will be the belle of the ball!"

"You'll be a bull in a china shop." Chloé sauntered over. "You couldn't be elegant if you practiced all year."

" _Chloé_ ," groaned Nino, and glanced around the group. "Who invited _you_?"

"Friend of yours?" asked Catherine suspiciously.

"As if." Chloé tossed her hair. "Adrien, I do not understand why you deign to be seen with these peasants."

Adrien glared at her. "You can stop acting like Audrey Bourgeois any time now."

Chloé gasped, one hand flying to her mouth in mimicry of injured insult. " _Adrien_!"

"Bourgeois?" repeated Catherine. "Oh, _her_. Why would any sensible, kind-hearted person think _Audrey Bourgeois_ is a good role model?"

"Okay, not that I actually object to talking trash about rich assholes who hurt my friends," put in Nino, "but Catherine, that's the second time in an hour you've insulted someone's beloved parent to their face."

Catherine gaped. Chloé sniffed. Adrien looked away.

"And I gotta warn you, as a friend," Nino continued, "upsetting people in this city has some pretty high collateral damage risk."

"Oh, are you _new_ to Paris?" Chloé inspected Catherine as a hawk might a mouse. "Not planning to stay, I hope. Poor Adrien has enough tragedy in his life without adding a thrift store punk."

Catherine closed her jaw with an audible click.

"Chloé," growled Alya, "did you not _hear_ Nino? Or do you just not _care_?"

"Because I think Queen Bee _ought_ to care," said Marinette, staring Chloé down. "I can't believe being a professional hazard is the sort of thing superheroes tend to look for in their teammates."

"Please." Chloé pulled out her phone and started thumbing through notifications. "I'm Ladybug's _best_ friend. Of _course_ she trusts me most of all."

Adrien started counting on his fingers. "Timebreaker, Evillustrator, Rogercop—don't mind me, Chloé, I'm just counting akumas you personally caused—Dark Cupid, Horrificator—"

"Adrien," said Catherine.

"Catherine." Adrien glared at her. "I'm sorry I'm not quite feeling like _myself_ today."

"That's _enough_ ," snapped Marinette. "All of you! Enough!"

Adrien and Catherine turned to Marinette with identical abashedly drooped expressions.

"Ridiculous!" exclaimed Chloé. "Utterly ridiculous!" She stalked off.

Marinette put her face in her hands, feeling where the weight of her earrings wasn't. "Please, all that's holy, no more akumas today," she muttered. "Please." She breathed in, long slow and deep, and out, one long slow cleansing breath, and in, and looked up at Catherine and Adrien. "Are you both all right?"

"We've got your backs, dudes," Nino added.

"You know it," said Alya, glaring after Chloé.

Catherine and Adrien glanced at each other. "Professional hazard, huh," Catherine said to Marinette.

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Adrien took a moment longer to fix a small smile on his face. "Sorry, I'm really not my best self today."

"—So!" said Marinette brightly, by way of distraction. "Blue! Royal blue, with details in saffron!"

Alya shook herself. "Right. The gown." She considered the group for a moment. "Adrien, you don't have to tag along if you aren't feeling up to it. Nino, you should stick with him."

Adrien looked down. "I need to stay with Marinette and Catherine. At least until I can't get out of going home."

Marinette let her gaze skim around the whole boutique. "Well, I think I have enough ideas now," she lied. "How about we go to my place and have a video game tournament?"

"Not if you're playing Ultimate Mecha Strike," said Adrien, and that smile almost looked real. "I don't think my mood could take that sort of ass-kicking."

* * *

"I think I owe you an apology," said Chat Noir, landing lightly behind Ladybug on Marinette's balcony. Which had been Ladybug's all along, they supposed.

Ladybug flopped on the deck chair. "Don't worry about it, kitty," she told them. "I owe you several."

"No, I have to say this." Chat took a moment to organize their thoughts. "Remember Glaciator?"

" _You're_ apologizing for that?" She buried her face in her hands. "You're not apologizing for that! _I'm_ apologizing for that!"

"Wait, what?"

Ladybug groaned. "Go away and let me die of mortification in peace."

Marinette hadn't yet, so Ladybug probably wouldn't either. Chat crouched beside her; their tail curled around her wrist of (they would say if asked) its own volition. "My Lady," they said softly. "What's wrong?"

Ladybug muffled her mouth with one hand and gave a shrill inarticulate shriek.

Chat waited.

She eventually sat up, facing them, eyes level with theirs. "Chat, I _knew_ I was the one breaking your heart," she said, almost inaudible. "I didn't know till that night but I _knew_. And I let you pour your heart out to me anyway. That wasn't right."

Chat hesitated before taking one of her hands in one of theirs. "I shouldn't have said any of that," they answered. "I was selfish, and—"

Ladybug laughed, tears glimmering in her eyes. "You are the least selfish person I know. _I_ wanted to be your friend on both sides of my mask. _My_ fault. You don't owe me anything—an apology least of all!"

Chat frowned at her. "I hear a 'but' coming."

She snorted. "You do not." Paused. "But—Chat, do you know who broke _my_ heart that night? And don't you dare say that was anyone's fault but mine," she added before they could answer.

Confused, they shook their head.

Ladybug laid her free hand on theirs. "The kindest, most generous person I've ever met. Goes by Adrien Agreste. Anyone you know?"

Chat stared.

"Oh my _gods_ ," they said at last, laughing, and were relieved to see her smile. "Holy _shit_ , Bugaboo! How long has _that_ been going on?"

"Remember giving me your umbrella, the first day you were in class?"

Chat let their head flop onto her shoulder. "So we have been feline the love for each other for litter-ally our entire acquaintance, and we have been cockblocking ourselves just as long. Ladybug, I am _appawled_."

She started snickering uncontrollably, her head falling forward to press against their ear. "A lady," she got out between bursts, "doesn't kiss and tail!"

—Dangle catnip before the _cat_ , why didn't she. _Do you want to?_ they wanted to ask.

That was a good script, though. "Do you want to?"

…Ladybug startled and fell sideways.

Chat was halfway across the balcony before realizing they'd moved. "You don't have to," they said, downcast eyes firmly on Marinette's potted lavender.

"Oh, Chat," Ladybug said gently, almost right in front of them, and they turned, lifted their gaze. Ladybug was wringing her hands and looking softly up at Chat. "Of course I want to."

[kiss kiss kiss]

* * *

"Hey, wait," said Adrien, stopping in front of a Lebanese eatery.

Nino obligingly halted; Alya kept moving, tugging Nino's hand, until she realized. Marinette, in the lead, paused, turning around; Catherine was sneaking glances at the cell phone store next to the Lebanese place.

"Marinette," Adrien said seriously, "if anyone asks, you broke your phone."

She blinked twice and began to ask "What—", but the phone store's door was already closing behind him. Catherine was stifling little _ee ee ee_ noises and struggling with a grin.

"…why is Adrien buying you a new phone?" Alya asked Marinette slowly.

"Oh, no," Marinette assured her, "not me." She frowned. "I am gonna guess _anyone_ means _anyone who might tell Adrien's father_."

Nino glanced at Catherine, who was bouncing on her tiptoes. "Catherine, dude, lost your phone somewhere?"

Catherine snickered. "Something like that." And sobered. "I _really_ don't want Gabriel Agreste knowing I exist."

The store door jingled open again. Adrien's sneaker toe caught on the threshold—he was falling, wide-eyed—Nino moved to catch him; too slowly—

Adrien rolled forward _over_ his shoulder and halfway back up to sitting, and flopped back down to the concrete with a sigh. The hand holding his bagged purchase went straight up in the air. "Mademoiselle chatonne, your phone."

Catherine snagged the bag out of his hand. Marinette took his arm and hoisted him back to his feet, only blushing a little. Adrien grinned at her.

"You feeling all right?" Marinette asked.

Adrien snorted. "I've been doing that party trick for [ten] years, Marinette, I'm _fine_."

"You tripped," Marinette told him flatly without letting him go, "and you're green."

Nino would say more 'unearthly pale', but she wasn't _wrong_ , and did Nino need to start keeping anti-nausea crap in his backpack, now?

"Awww," said Catherine with a pout, pulling out the lime green phone case, "I wanted hot pink."

"Oh fuck you," said Adrien without bite.

Marinette hid a laugh behind her free hand.

Nino looked sideways at Alya, who looked as confused as he felt: she flicked quick glances between Marinette and Adrien, still attached at the forearm, and— _oh_. Yeah. _Great_. Where was Ladybug when Nino needed her? Or Wayzz; from what small amount Nino knew of the little dude, he might at least have _some_ insight here?

Adrien pulled his own phone out of a pocket, flicked a button, and winced at what the screen said. "I need to get going—it's nearly dinnertime."

"Yeah, at my place," Marinette told him. "You're invited."

"Nathalie will—"

Marinette twisted her grip on Adrien's forearm and pulled, bringing their clasped arms up between them and drawing him close. (Nino _stared_.) "Dinner at my place," she repeated. " _You're invited_."

Adrien stared down at her, breath catching, even as Marinette glared up at him. Nino wanted to back away slowly, to escape before they noticed his intrusion on such a private moment. Alya squeezed his hand, her grip slippery, and Nino thought she felt it too.

And Adrien smirked. "What's cooking, my lady?"

—and squeaked, and jerked his hand out of Marinette's grasp. "Ow," he said, rubbing the small reddening crescent mark where her thumb had been. "What's with the physical violence?"

Marinette raised both her eyebrows, turned sharply, and marched down the sidewalk.

"You deserved that," Catherine told Adrien, and hurried to catch up with Marinette. "So what _is_ cooking?" Nino heard her ask.

"All right, Adrien," said Alya, gesturing Adrien to follow them and tugging Nino along with her, "what the _hell_ just happened?"

He shrugged, heading after the other girls. "I have learned that when she uses that tone of voice—even if she is saying two times two makes five—I had better go along with it."

Marinette spun around, walking backward alongside Catherine now. "Two times two _is_ five!"

Catherine, over her shoulder, called "Can't you _count_?"

"Yeah," retorted Adrien, "I'm counting on some dinner!"

"No roast for the wicked, I suppose," said Marinette, eyes sparkling.

Catherine patted Marinette's nearer shoulder. "I'm sure you can rice to the challenge."

"That might pot-entially be a dare!"

"I'm kettle, nice to meet you," put in Adrien, catching up to them.

Nino and Alya looked at each other.

"Caught in an akuma attack earlier, you say," said Alya, quiet.

Nino shrugged, shifting the weight of his backpack. "I don't know, dude. Maybe something _good_ happened?"

Alya regarded Marinette, firing back with another pun. "I hope so?"

* * *

Adrien's toe hit the topmost stair before Marinette's apartment door. A moment later, he pried his face out of the carpet. "Hello, Marinette's left aglet," he told the sparkly-blue-nail-polish–coated metal points of her shoelaces. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Are you _sure_ everything's all right?" Alya asked, peering around Catherine.

"Not at all." Adrien didn't move. "I don't seem to have the dexterity to get up right now."

Marinette leaned down to offer him a hand up. "You mean gross motor control?"

Adrien caught her eye and smirked. "Why, this is all downright sinister!" Beginning to push himself into a sitting position, he added, "You'd think I were an alder catkin, serving myself to hawkmoth larvae for dinner."

Marinette sputtered.

Adrien took Marinette's arm for support to get the rest of the way vertical. "Very nice left aglets, by the way. Yours?"

"He says like he has to ask that," muttered Alya, having meanwhile googled 'aglet' and 'catkin' and now moving on to 'alder'.

"It's polite," Adrien told her. "I really am fine, Alya. Ladybug took care of everything like always."

He took a step sideways, stumbled, and brought Marinette to the floor with him.

"…that said," he admitted, "I might be coming down with something."

"Smooth," said Catherine dryly. "Excellent flirting, ten slash ten."

"Mercury, Mars, and Minerva," groaned Marinette, extricating herself. "That's _flirting_? How have you not _learned_ yet?"

"Hey," protested Adrien. "It got you in my arms, didn't it?"

Alya exchanged another long silent look with Nino.

Catherine hauled both fallen to their feet. "Adrien, my heart, my soul, love of my life, have you somehow not realized yet that life doesn't work like magical girl anime?"

"Negation," said Adrien, leaning on the door frame as Marinette opened the door. "Ladybug and Chat Noir."

"That's an inversion, not a negation."

" _Somebody's_ life clearly works like magical girl anime." Adrien flopped over the sofa arm to sprawl across the sofa, feet hanging off the end and one arm off the side. "Quod erat demonstrandum."

In the tiny kitchen, Catherine thumped herself in the forehead with the heel of her hand, again, again. "Dude. Let me put this more clearly. _She's not interested_."

Marinette squeaked and hid her very red face in her hands. Alya, out of love for her best friend, bit down her laughter. Nino cracked up.

"Who's not what now?" asked a familiar voice. Alya looked over and almost died of heart failure.

Marinette squared her shoulders, walked right up to Ladybug, and stuck her middle finger up a centimeter from Ladybug's nose.

"No, seriously, I've got to hear this," added Chat Noir, grinning from the stairs behind Ladybug.

"I will strangle you with Ladybug's yo-yo," Marinette told him flatly, getting her blush under control. "I have the perfect alibi."

Mme. Cheng descended behind Chat Noir. "Marinette, honey, why didn't you tell us you were friends with the city's heroes?"

Marinette let out a high-pitched shriek, shoved past all three of them, and stomped upstairs.

Nino sighed. "Ladybug, dude, not to suggest you screwed up or anything, but Adrien said he and Marinette were late earlier because they got caught in today's akuma attack. How sure are you they're not still under the influence?"

Ladybug, moving into the kitchen area, turned toward Chat Noir. He raised an eyebrow. She snorted, rolled her eyes—flicked glances at Alya and Nino, and a more significant one at Mme. Cheng. Chat looked over at Adrien, then back at Ladybug with his head tilted. She moved to get a better look at Adrien, glanced at Catherine (who shrugged) and again at Chat Noir, and darted over to the sofa. "How are you feeling?" she asked Adrien softly.

"Like I've caught the plagg. —Plague."

"No news on that front," Chat Noir put in, getting out of Mme. Cheng's way.

"Oh, hurray," said Adrien sourly.

Alya gave up. "Would someone _please_ tell us what's going on?" She glared at Ladybug. "These are our _friends_! And Adrien's sick, and he and Marinette are acting _way_ out of character, and they were both _fine_ when we saw them yesterday!"

_And you trust me with the Fox Miraculous,_ Alya willed Ladybug to understand. _You can trust me with this._

Ladybug's gaze flicked to Chat Noir again. "…The…situation might be more…complex than we thought it was this afternoon," she told them. "But nobody's under any mind control, we are sure of that, and we're looking into…everything…so please don't worry." She paused and added, "If we need backup, we know where to find Rena Rouge and Carapace, okay?"

Slowly, Alya nodded.

"If you need help," Nino said, sounding deadly serious, "you call them."

Ladybug smiled. "We will."

* * *

"Chicken soup sounds lovely, thank you," Adrien told Mrs. Cheng. He would make a point of _not_ comparing it to his own mother's, he decided.

"How many of the rest of you are staying for dinner?" Mrs. Cheng asked.

"Everyone," Ladybug answered, and ducked her head. "Um. Probably."

Chat Noir and Catherine perked right up. "Yes please," said Alya, and "If we won't be a bother," said Nino. Adrien's stomach turned over.

"Any food restrictions? Allergies? No? How does spaghetti alla carbonara sound?" Mrs. Cheng got down a large pot and started filling it with water.

Adrien winced at the thought of all that bacon and cream sauce. "Delicious, but…"

"Delicious," Chat Noir said firmly. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Cheng."

"Thank you," echoed Ladybug.

"How can I help?" asked Catherine.

Adrien rolled off of the sofa and headed to sit just inside the bathroom door. (Convenient how it was so close to the upward-bound stairs.)

"Don't you both have your own homes to get to?" Alya asked. Adrien's eyes closed.

Mrs. Cheng said, "Here, slice up the pancetta."

Chat Noir: "Ah, about that."

Mrs. Cheng: "I want it all in one-and-a-half-centimeter squares or smaller."

Ladybug: "We're sort of stuck?"

The off-rhythm sound of a knife on a cutting board.

Nino: "What do you mean _stuck_?"

Catherine: "Will you need any vegetables chopped for the soup?"

Alya: "I really hope you meant it about calling Rena for help."

Mrs. Cheng: "Yes; I'll get a second cutting board."

Alya: "And Carapace. Can't forget Carapace."

Mrs. Cheng: "Would someone please come scrape the carrots?"

Nino: "I got it, Mrs. Cheng."

Ladybug: "We can't drop the transformations."

Chat Noir: "Trust me, we tried."

Catherine: "Dare I ask how you plan to pee?"

Ladybug: "Please don't."

Chat Noir: "It's not like I'll be missed if I don't come home anyway."

Ladybug: "Oh, kitty."

Mrs. Cheng: "If Marinette is all right with it, perhaps you could stay the night?"

Ladybug: "Oh, could we? That would be marvelous, thank you."

Alya: "Can we stay too?"

Nino: "Yeah, we'll be the envy of our classmates."

Ladybug: "Uh-huh. I'm spending the night with my best friend anyway. I already told my parents. She'll cover for me."

Catherine: "Lucky bug."

Ladybug: "Catherine, you know that offer included you, right?"

Catherine: "—Mrs. Cheng, how big do you want the carrots chopped?"

A warmth joined Adrien's soothing dark world. "Sorry," whispered Marinette, sitting (Adrien thought) against the door frame, so that her back was only a few centimeters from Adrien's shoulder.

"Not your fault," Adrien whispered back.

"It _is_." She cut off the hissed sound—too loud. "I wished to know who was under your mask. And that you could—well, Catherine could—"

"Yeah," Adrien agreed. It wasn't that he thought anyone in the room would take it badly to hear he was a girl. Honestly, it wasn't.

"But not that much. I didn't wish for those _really_ ," Marinette's whisper emphasized. "And not like this. I'm sorry."

Funny, now he thought about it. He didn't _feel_ like a girl anymore. Not even a little.

"It really is all right," he told her.

A bit of the warmth crept closer to Adrien's hand. A little closer. Marinette's fingertips rested against his skin.

Adrien stayed there in the gentle darkness, hearing the inarticulate chatter in the living area, too tired to stand. Moving his hand up and over a little, enough for it to rest on hers, was so absurdly easy, and so absurdly hard.

_It doesn't matter if she doesn't love me like I love her._

_She loves me._

_That has to be enough._


	3. Beauty Is In The Pie Of The Beholder

Catherine slipped into the bathroom, hastily acquired thrift store yoga pants in one hand and a package of guesstimated-size panties in the other, and latched the door behind her. Checked whether the door was latched. Checked whether the door was latched. Checked whether the door was latched. Reassured at last, she turned to the large mirror.

She looked…pretty good, actually. Catherine tried a couple of the poses photographers had been asking 'him' to do more often now that 'he' looked a little more 'most eligible bachelor' and less 'teenage heartthrob'. Frowned. Composed her face into a more sultry expression typically requested of the female models partnering with 'him'.

Hmm.

—Did Ladybug—Marinette—even _like_ girls? Catherine couldn't remember if Marinette had admitted the pronouns of the one who broke her heart; the offender was a he, Catherine thought, but that might be Catherine's assumption or Marinette's deliberately not coming out to Chat Noir…

And comfortable as Marinette might be around _Catherine_ , and _Chat Noir_ , and even around _Adrien_ —today—it was not lost on the girl that however in character this might be for _Ladybug_ , it wasn't at all for _Marinette_.

But if Marinette _liked_ girls, then Catherine…might just have a chance.

She wasn't in here to admire herself in the mirror, though. Not really.

…Okay, yes really.

Something glinted at her ear; she lifted a hand to it and found an earring. (As Adrien, she definitely did _not_ have pierced ears.) Her shiny new phone, all set up now with her sparkly old secret accounts, came out of her pocket, and a moment later she was grinning at the photo of a tiny metal cat waving one paw from its perch on her earlobe: wherever Ladybug's magic had gotten the idea that Catherine wanted maneki neko stud earrings, it was right on the money.

That said, further exploration proved the only bodily changes the magic had invoked were piercing her ears, complete (she thought) with eight weeks of healing, and growing her hair. It was beautiful hair, of course; Catherine was pleased, however less pleased she might be if borrowing Marinette's oily-hair shampoo for her own dry hair was going to be even a medium-term thing. But… Her bra, white with silky floral embroidery in eggshell, was sized (according to the tag) for a B-cup woman, with built-in padding to bump her up to a C, and it contained more padding where the B-cup boobs belonged. She snapped a photo of the bra in her hand—in case this all disappeared before tomorrow morning, at least she'd _know_.

At least she'd be able to prove to herself today happened.

Which was a terribly sad thought to have, wasn't it, about one of the best days of her life.

(Plagg would say something grating about being boringly emotional. Catherine muttered the only appropriately-profane retort and climbed into the shower.)

* * *

> **_#fivespots_ **
> 
> **greenbeautyquark**  
>  new phone setup: achieved  
> new discord: created  
> hey _@fly_away_home_ invite your other half
> 
> **fly_away_home**  
>  *looks for _@dichatomic_ *
> 
> **dichatomic**  
>  no the other one
> 
> **fly_away_home**  
>  *looks for—* wait can I even say that in present company? how secure is this chat?
> 
> **gravitylawbreaker**  
>  very, thank you  
> and we're not inviting the paternally approved me, if that's where you were going with that  
> that would _not_ be secure against paternal invasion  
> I am twitchy enough about doing this on paternal wifi  
> seriously none of me know Marinette's handle when she's at home
> 
> **fly_away_home**   
>  😇
> 
> **pieceofcakedesigns**  
>  shut up and color  
> I have one week to finish my gown for the gala and _make Alya's altogether_
> 
> **greenbeautyquark**  
>  oh shit  
> the gala
> 
> **dichatomic**  
> ?
> 
> **greenbeautyquark**  
>  shut it, you, if we don't fix this by Sat you still get to GO  
>  _Chat Noir_ has an actual invite  
>  _Catherine_ however
> 
> **pieceofcakedesigns**  
>  OH SHIT  
> THE GALA  
> *hyperventilates*
> 
> **greenbeautyquark**  
>  Mari  
> Mari breathe
> 
> **greenbeautyquark**   
> 
> 
> **gravitylawbreaker**  
>  so what I'm hearing is we need three more tickets to the gala  
> four if Nino wants to come  
> because Catherine I am not being your date  
> some things money can't buy  
> for everything else, there's Agrestecard
> 
> **fly_away_home**  
>  *bop* bad kitty no cookie
> 
> **dichatomic**  
>  (Nathalie?)
> 
> **greenbeautyquark**  
>  (will find out her charge appreciates contemporary art I suppose)
> 
> **pieceofcakedesigns**  
>  wait wait  
> am I seeing this  
> I get to go to the [queer artist collective] Charity Gala  
>  _as myself_  
>  and display  
> (even if we don't admit who designed Ladybug's)  
> not one  
> not two  
> but _four_ designs  
> FOUR
> 
> **greenbeautyquark**  
>  should I be delighted for your opportunity  
> or overjoyed that you want to be my faerie gown designer  
> or firm on the point that this is not _Project Runway_ and you have school all week
> 
> **fly_away_home**  
>  coincidentally, I do _not_ have school all this week  
> unless the wishbone is done with us sooner  
> …so who wants to not go see Master Fu until after the gala  
> *squeak* CHAT
> 
> **dichatomic**  
>  you unfairly malign my character
> 
> **gravitylawbreaker**  
>  I don't know what I just did, _@dichatomic_  
>  but I probably deserved being swatted for it  
> right Ladybug?
> 
> **fly_away_home**  
>  she proposed an orgy
> 
> **greenbeautyquark**  
> ...  
> yeah I can see me saying that  
> not meaning it  
> …I mean  
> unless everyone wanted me to mean it
> 
> **pieceofcakedesigns**  
>  FOUR  
> GOWNS  
> BY  
> SATURDAY  
> MORNING
> 
> **greenbeautyquark**  
>  (it's a good thing we got Nino and Alya to go home)  
> (I wouldn't want to try explaining this right now)
> 
> **gravitylawbreaker**  
>  just one question, mademoiselle "I can say anything I want in costume because no one knows it's me" chaton  
> what gives you the right  
> to suggest anything  
> so indecorous  
> so _audacious_  
> ...  
> when I am not even there to enjoy it???
> 
> **fly_away_home**  
>  don't worry Adrien you're invited to the orgy
> 
> **gravitylawbreaker**  
> ...
> 
> **pieceofcakedesigns**  
>  FOUR GOWNS
> 
> **gravitylawbreaker**  
>  do mine eyes deceive me
> 
> **dichatomic**  
>  but I don't _want_ to play Comedy of Errors  
> this is better:  
> if I profane with my unworthiest hand
> 
> **fly_away_home**  
>  would you like to go through the sketchbooks with me for anything that might suit Catherine
> 
> **dichatomic**  
>  this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
> 
> **pieceofcakedesigns**  
> ...  
> yes please
> 
> **dichatomic**  
>  HEY

* * *

> **_#peachykeen_ **
> 
> **greenbeautyquark**  
>  …I have had the weirdest day
> 
> **tamiriariani**  
>  yeah? bet mine's weirder  
> check scroll
> 
> **greenbeautyquark**  
>  Tamir, beloved  
> I have checked scroll and  
> no

* * *

Adrien—an oddly long-haired Adrien—was cajoling Marinette out of the blanket pile. A bleary minute of thought: _oh, I'm dreaming_. And Adrien's hand on hers was warm, and her pillow fort on the floor wasn't, not anymore.

_I like this dream._

The scent of day-old bread, of eggs frying in butter in the skillet. The burbling sound of the espresso machine. Clink, splash, clatter. The ambrosial aroma of café au lait.

"So what syrup do you want, Marinette?" asked the oddly long-haired Adrien.

_Raspberry_ , she tried to say; it came out "rbbrry."

"Hey," Adrien said, amused, "the apron says 'kiss the cook', not 'insult the cook'."

Adrien wasn't wearing an apron. "Mrr?"

"My pain perdu is _not_ rubbery."

"Pbbbt," said Marinette, and blew strands of her hair out of her mouth.

A gentle hand cleared the hair off her face. "Drink your coffee," said Adrien. "Raspberry syrup?"

The coffee _was_ right there. Marinette took a sip, made a face, pushed herself off the kitchen stool to fumble in the cabinet until she found the honey.

"I feel like there's an 'I like my coffee like I like my men' joke somewhere in there," observed Adrien, thumping the other kitchen stool down on the far side of the peninsula.

"Sweet an' light," Marinette agreed, yawning. "Not men though. Jus' you." Raspberry-topped pain perdu had somehow appeared on a plate beside her coffee cup. She frowned at it. "What's with dessert?"

"Because of reasons," said Adrien cheerily, setting her own plate and espresso cup across from Marinette's, popping the collar on her denim vest, and dropping onto the stool. "Just me, huh? Should I take that as a compliment?"

"Dreamin', aren't I?" Marinette swallowed some more coffee. "Take what you want."

" 'Take what you want', you say," repeated Adrien, and a twist of thought poked at the back of Marinette's brain: _wishbone. What do you want?_ Adrien—was it Adrien?—continued, "What if I told you I want a kiss?"

"Then it's a _good_ dream," Marinette told her, and stuck a forkful of pain perdu in her mouth.

"What if…" She slid off the stool, rounded the peninsula. Leaned in close to Marinette. "…I _took_ a kiss?"

"Catherine," whispered Marinette, as the pieces came together. "I don't want to wake up."

The taller girl's breath tickled her ear. "Aren't you awake now?"

_You know, I'm not sure._ But what else were dreams for, if Marinette couldn't turn her head just a little, lean up just a little, and press her lips to Catherine's?

—And pull right back a moment later. "You taste like you drink espresso _straight_!" she accused Catherine, laughing.

Catherine grinned at her and knocked back her espresso shot.

* * *

Ladybug was a vision of loveliness as usual. Even with her hair all tangled in half-undone ribbons, a bit of drool sliding out of her open mouth, and little crusty bits at the corners of her eyes.

" _Goooood_ morning, sunshine!"

Chat Noir had been awake since dawn.

Ladybug fumbled for something. Found nothing. "Whh timz it?" she mumbled, flailing her arm around for, Chat would bet, her phone.

"Nearly noon," Chat said cheerfully, plucking Ladybug's yo-yo from its holster and plunking it into her hand. "Did you have a good nap?"

The love of their life fixed them with a glare that promised vicious bloody murder.

"I tried rousing Plagg and Tikki again," they continued. "Bupkis. Ignore your missed calls."

"Mrrphmm," said Ladybug, and pried herself off the chaise to go splash water on her face at the sink. She took down her hair and, brushing it out, rephrased: "Why are we waking up in costume at nearly noon?"

"Wow," said Chat, "you are _really_ not a morning person, are you?"

Ladybug held up a hand, one finger extended.

"So I thought," Chat went on, "we could swing by the lycée while Marinette and Adrien are very visibly in class, and generally make an amusing and very visible distraction of ourselves. You know, to take advantage of this unique opportunity to _really_ take attention off who we are under the masks."

Ladybug paused with one hair ribbon half knotted. "Coffee," she decided. "That will make sense with coffee. Yes good."

A moment's attention to their staff—the _phone apps_ function of their _literal_ staff—later, Chat confirmed aloud, "Café au lait with honey, right?"

"Right," said Ladybug through a yawn. "How did you—"

"Catherine," said Chat, waggling the said staff. "I'll be right back."

In the kitchen, Chat heated up two helpings of the leftover spaghetti alla carbonara—okay, three or four; they were hungry growing girls, okay, and they weren't exactly Adrien right now and therefore need not even pretend to stick to Adrien's dietician-approved meal plan. Two espressos, as well, and one went in a larger mug with some honey and some milk—

"Good morning, Chaton," said a voice that was absolutely one hundred percent _not_ Chat's Lady. "Or is it Chatonne? Forgive me my confusion, please; she has called you both."

Chat turned. "…Good morning, M. Dupain."

M. Dupain smiled at them, baguette in hand. "I want you to know," he said, his voice soft as dough and firm as kneading, "that you are always welcome in this house. Whatever name or face you wear." He broke the baguette in two and put half on each plate beside the creamy spaghetti. "Eat up. You're too skinny. Does that father of yours ever _feed_ you?"

"I," Chat began, and found the words choking in their throat, a tangled Gordian knot with no blade to hand.

"I'm curious why I seem to have two daughters now," M. Dupain continued, "but I suppose that's not important at the moment?"

"Oh, you're adopting Catherine?" Chat asked before they could think better of it. "Good. I'm glad." The words flew with the pointed force of arrows. "She needs a father who cares."

A beat.

"I imagine," M. Dupain said gently, "that Sabine and I will be overjoyed to welcome her as a daughter. If she chooses. But that's not what I meant, and we both know it."

"No," Chat lied, busying themself with looking through drawers for forks and spoons. "I don't think we do."

M. Dupain sighed. "Ladybug slipped and called me Papa last night."

Chat stilled. "Did she."

"Sabine has been wondering for a while." M. Dupain leaned on the peninsula. "I couldn't be sure. I still can't be sure—but we all know Ladybug's magic has done stranger things than this."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Says the very one," M. Dupain said dryly, "who was key in the defeat of Malediktator because of behaving around red laser dots exactly like an _actual cat_."

"That was _not_ Ladybug's fault!" Chat protested.

M. Dupain shrugged. "But she used it to your mutual advantage." He preened. "I have taught her well."

Chat looked away again. "I can't answer that." They contemplated the milk jug as though it held the mysteries of life. "Ladybug has always insisted that who we are under the mask has to stay entirely separate from who we are in the mask. For our families' safety. Our friends' safety. Our _own_ safety."

They turned, deliberately, to meet M. Dupain's eyes. Truths this hurtful deserved that courtesy, however painful.

"Imagine," they said, hard, sharp, like a bared sword blade, "if Hawkmoth knew you were her father. Or—even _thought_ he knew. He is willing to use _infants_ to forward his goals. He will not hesitate to threaten Ladybug's beloved father. To _injure_ Ladybug's beloved father. And if he gets what he wants, then Ladybug will not have the ability to undo the hurt he inflicts. The source of her power and the source of mine are the things Hawkmoth _wants_. If he thinks you are her father, he is not above torturing and killing you. And she _will_ come for you. And if we lose that battle, she _will not_ have the power to heal you."

M. Dupain stared at them in silence.

"Or," Chat added, quietly vicious, "Mme. Cheng. Or _herself_."

Tears brimmed up in M. Dupain's eyes.

"Good thing there's no relation." Stone. They would be like stone. "Isn't it."

"…Yes," M. Dupain agreed at last, sounding hollow. "Good thing."

Chat smiled a little. "You should be proud of your daughter, M. Dupain. She has a big heart. I imagine she got it from her father."

M. Dupain moved as though to throw his arms around Chat; he jerked back before connecting, red-faced. "—May I hug you?"

They flung themself into his arms.

* * *

Catherine was glad of the counter between her and everyone but 'oh, you can't call us Mme. Cheng and M. Dupain if you're working for us' Sabine: the bakery was more than sufficiently confining when empty.

The cash register didn't seem difficult to work—slightly outdated, perhaps, but not _difficult_. But the walls were pressing in and the customers were so _loud_. The woman asking for a dozen cocoa macarons had a voice that screeched; the man looking for a cheddar croissant had a voice that boomed. Catherine swiped cards and took cash, counted change and printed receipts and wished people a cheerful day, swiped cards and took cash, counted change and printed receipts and wished people a cheerful day, swiped cards and took cash, counted change and printed receipts and—

"You're doing well," murmured Sabine when the breakfast rush eased off. "You're quick, you're smiling, and I don't believe you've miskeyed a single number."

Catherine, who had pasted her modeling smile on her face hours ago, shrugged. "I know I asked to help, but…"

"You're doing well," Sabine repeated. "We'll hire you properly in a heartbeat. If that's what you'd like."

Looking away, Catherine considered the thought. She couldn't, of course, _tell_ Sabine she was probably a construct of Ladybug's magic who might well vanish the moment her wishbone wish and Marinette's had been fulfilled.

—Hers _or_ Marinette's. She had to remember that. Her partner's wishbone wish was an unknown quantity, and she couldn't be _sure_ the wishbone had broken exactly evenly.

"I might not be sticking around here long," she said instead.

Sabine regarded her with gentle eyes. "You can stay here as long as you need. As long as you want."

"And put a vase on the table?" muttered Catherine.

"What home could not use more píng'ān?"

_Peace,_ meant Sabine's phrase, and _tranquility_ ; different characters pronounced similarly meant _vase_ and _table_. "I'm not good at tranquil."

And Catherine would simply—stop thinking about the _when_ and the _where_ of invoking that tradition. Not consider the implications of Sabine sincerely agreeing with Catherine's bitter words. Not contemplate the prospect of spending _every_ night at home in the pillow fort Marinette had built _last_ night…

_Don't think of a purple platypus._

Sabine watched her, mouth quirking amusedly. "You have known Marinette this long and you still think she is tranquil?"

Catherine snorted. "No, no, I know better."

* * *

Ladybug looked up from her sketches when her trap door popped open. "You have flour on your nose," she told the cheerfully climbing Catherine.

"I baked!" Catherine set a plate down by the door; it had about one quarter each full of sliced cheeses, sliced meats, sliced baguette, and crunchy flat squarish chocolate chip cookies. "The cookies don't look like much but they taste okay." She closed the trap door behind her and brought the plate over to Marinette's desk.

Accordingly, Ladybug swiped a cookie and munched contentedly. "Not bakery quality," she agreed, "but really good for a first attempt. Too much butter, or too cool an oven, or—?"

Catherine snorted. "Do I look like a culinary chemist to you?"

Ladybug looked her up and down. The navy denim Catherine wore was so thoroughly dusted with flour it was almost azure in some places, positively snowy in others; her tee was streaked with egg-yolk gold; there was a smear of cookie dough at the corner of her lip. "You look like a pastry chef's apprentice."

"Oh, good," Catherine said, leaning on the desk. "Can I tell you a secret? I'm pie-curious."

Ladybug snorted. "Pie see what you did there." Did Catherine know Ladybug had kissed Chat Noir? "Berry amusing."

"Hey, don't razz me! That's not very sweet of you!"

"I'm just sugar and spice and everything nice." Ladybug spun her chair back to face her sketches. "So what do _you_ want in a formal gown, Kitty?"

* * *

When the door to the Lycée Anaïs Nin art room thumped closed during her afternoon study period, Chloé looked up from her meticulous arrangement of magazine clippings into a pixelated collage. "What are _you_ doing here?" she asked sourly.

The blonde punk she'd seen with Adrien and his friends in the park blinked at her blankly. "Chloé, right? I don't think we were properly introduced. I'm Catherine."

"Pleasure," said Chloé as courtesy demanded. "Are you a new student?"

"No." Catherine looked around the room and headed for the blank sketchbooks. "I need somewhere to hang out until Marinette and Adrien get out of class for the day, and I was reliably informed the art room would be peaceful." She collected a set of colored pencils and a ruler, unhesitatingly, and plopped down at an empty table.

"More peaceful when Ladybug and Chat Noir aren't playing tag outside," muttered Chloé, who wasn't at all annoyed that Queen Bee wasn't invited to play. Absolutely not the least upset.

Catherine glanced windows-ward; three other students were silently engrossed in the show. She shrugged. "I guess they like to take time for themselves sometimes too."

"Graaaaah!" shrieked the always-high-strung Monique from across the room. "Why, _why_ , WHY? It was _good_ and then I— _augh_!"

Catherine turned. "What's wrong?"

"I screwed up the anatomy," grouched Monique. "Again."

_And you always will,_ thought Chloé. Monique really ought to take up aspirations she could _achieve_. But saying so was the sort of thing that would have Adrien remarking on unnecessary cruelty.

Catherine got up and went to have a look at the sketch. "I _like_ that," she told her. "You have a really good sense of composition. I think you just need more practice with stuff that isn't still-life."

Monique tapped the blunt end of her pencil on her pad, an irritable beat. "The problem is I can never find anyone who's willing to sit still long enough for me to get the proportions right, never mind more subtle details."

Catherine smiled at her. "Oh, I can model for you for the next couple of hours; it's no trouble."

" _I'd_ like to," countered a girl Chloé thought was called Pascale. (Monique snorted, blushing, and was roundly ignored.)

"You sure? It's a lot harder than it looks." Catherine held out her arm, gripping her ruler like a sword, statuesquely still. "You wouldn't believe the muscular strength and control it takes to hold a pose properly."

Chloé looked Catherine over. The taller girl had the looks of a model, but she was wearing _denim_ ; yesterday's skirt had at least not had a hole worn in it! There was no way Catherine had anything like _Chloé's_ experience, never mind Adrien's, with the practiced polish and poise of posing for photos. "Oh, please. I can do that too, but backwards and in heels." She clicked her stiletto heel on the floor tile for emphasis.

Catherine's face paled, eyes flying wide, stepping back as though Chloé's words were physical blows—were stabs from those very stilettos, or the daggers they resembled. She tried to speak, but made no sound—she squinched up her face in an uncannily precise mimic of Adrien fighting tears—fists tight, she pivoted and walked away, the door of the art room closing behind her with an echoing _bang_.

Chloé stared after her. After Adrien's new friend, who looked so hurt.

_Oh, fuck—that must have been cruel of me—_


	4. Your Work's Cat Out For You

_Chloé doesn't know me. Chloé doesn't know me. Chloé doesn't know me._

The words pounded a trochaic beat in her head, overlapping the iambic repetition of _but backwards and in heels, but backwards and in heels_.

_Chloé doesn't know me. Chloé doesn't know me._

Catherine didn't even know where she was going, except _away_. The ruler she hadn't put down bit into her hand. _Chloé doesn't know me._

Curling around and behind the trimeter refrains was a more sinister harmony: _Chloé hates me. Chloé hates me. Chloé hates me._

Chloé, after all—she and Adrien had never conversed about this; they had never, Catherine thought, needed to—was a heterosexual girl. Alloromantic—so _very_ alloromantic, however likely her focus on Adrien made demiromantic sound—and allosexual. And of particular note, cisgender.

The beat went on: _Chloé hates me. Chloé hates me._

Except for 'girl', Catherine was none of the above.

_Chloé hates me._

Catherine recognized, in a vague sense, the courtyard of Lycée Anaïs Nin, populated with students with free periods. Here, Mylène and Ivan, playing a trading card game. There, Juleka and Rose, cuddled up on a bench and sharing a pair of earbuds. Flashes of input. Blips. Blinks.

_Chloé doesn't know me._

Juleka tried to say something. The audio scrambled between her mouth and Catherine's brain. Xjiaoeljx. Wnciowsjl.

_Chloé hates me._

Rose reaching toward. Fingers on Catherine's bare arm. Fire.

Was someone shouting? Her throat burned.

Fist throbbed. Knuckles split. Bleeding.

Hands on her shoulders. No. No. Run. Run! Get _off_. Get _away_!

A jolt like lightning through the ruler in her hand: _Hello, Physicienne._

* * *

Rose was comfortably snuggled in Juleka's arms, Seanan McGuire's "The True Story Here" playing in her left ear, when Adrien stormed past their courtyard bench—no, not Adrien, though on second glance it was clear why Rose was confused. (Did he have a sister she hadn't met? She _thought_ he was an only child…) The blonde girl looked like she needed a friend, and if Rose didn't know her name then she certainly wouldn't be able to think of anyone close to her—except, maybe, Adrien, and wasn't he in class this period?—so Rose uncurled herself from Juleka and popped the earbud out.

Juleka got up too, thumbing off the music app. "Hey," she said, catching up to the girl. "Is everything all right?" The girl's green eyes, Rose saw on coming around her, were wide and blank. "Mademoiselle?"

Rose held out a hand, projecting _gentle_ and _kind_ with all her might. "We can help," she said, and—the girl didn't seem to be hearing either of them—took the girl by the arm.

The girl exploded forward and Rose found herself sprawled on the ground with fireworks bursting in her nose and cheek. "Chloé hates me!" the girl shouted. "Chloé hates me, Chloé hates me—"

"Ivan!" snapped Juleka, but he was already moving, his hand of cards scattering abandoned on the ground. When he touched the girl's shoulder, she punched him too, to less effect—

"AKUMA!" shrieked Mylène, pointing at the fluttering purple insect, and bolted for the exit.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," said Rose, and threw herself between the butterfly and the girl.

The butterfly went around her. Rose yanked off her shoe—maybe she could squash the thing—and turned. Ivan was trying to hustle the flailing girl somewhere else, to no effect—he had to duck to avoid getting stabbed in the eye by her ruler—

" _Down!_ " Rose shouted, and flung her shoe at Ivan's head.

The shoe went precisely where she meant it; Ivan slammed the girl to the ground in time.

The butterfly dropped just as quickly.

The ruler turned a vivid violet-black.

Ivan rolled clear as the girl, no longer struggling, straightened up. Rose flicked frantic glances around— _she_ wasn't running, of course, nor did it look like Ivan would, and Juleka had her phone out and was filming from out of the way. Mylène had gone for Ladybug and Chat Noir, surely? Everyone else—

" _Evacuate!_ " Rose shouted at the top of her not inconsiderable lungs. " _Get Ladybug!_ " She wiped her bloody nose on her sleeve. " _Ladybug!_ "

"I won't," snarled the girl, dividing Rose's attention. "I won't!"

Rose circled around her; she needed her shoe back on, but she wanted a view of the girl's face.

—Okay, that butterfly effect was _weird_.

"I am not your servant!" the girl said, breathing hard and fast. "I am not your _son_!"

Rose threw a glance at Juleka: her sweetheart's expression was stunned, but her phone hand was steady.

Shoe in hand, Rose closed in on the girl. _Gentle_ and _kind_ were harder to project with so much blood trickling down her face she had to look like a vampire with bad table manners, but she tried anyway. "Hi, friend," she told the girl, and—could that man _hear_ her?—added with a growl, "Not _you_ , Hawkmoth." (Ivan, standing ready in case someone needed to tackle the girl, gave a small grin.)

"I don't care!" said the girl, volume rising. "I won't hurt her!"

"Good," Rose said softly, tying the shoe back on her foot. "Don't hurt her. Keep not hurting her."

"I won't _be_ her!" She was yelling now. "I won't be _you_!"

Where were Ladybug and Chat Noir? Hadn't they just been chasing each other around outside the school, laughing uproariously?

"My friend," said Rose again. "My friend. Can you drop the ruler?"

The girl's grip on the ruler tightened reflexively. "I won't!" she shouted. "I refuse!"

She wasn't looking at Rose, though. _Gentle_ and _kind_ and—this could go _so_ wrong—Rose laid a hand on the girl's bare arm.

Her attention shot to Rose at once: her cheeks draining of color, her mouth falling open, her green eyes snapping from a terrified wide to a sharp focus on Rose's bleeding nose.

"That's right," Rose told her. "Keep refusing him. Think positive—think happy thoughts—"

"Friend," said the girl, and repeated herself, frantic, pleading: "Friends. Listen. _Listen_ —remember—"

Rose did not look towards Juleka. Nor Ivan. "I'll remember," she promised.

"His son," said the girl. "Gonna—gonna textile engi—glitter." Her eyes were drifting out of focus. "Gorilla. Paris _drowned_. He's _dying_ to know. _Tell_ him, Hawkmoth!"

Rose _did not_ look towards Juleka. "Happy thoughts," she told the girl. "Come on. Tell me about your favorite person."

"Can't," said the girl, attention on Rose again. "He's listening. He'll—he _will_. Gotta. Gotta her _safe_. Friends too."

"Yeah," agreed Rose. _Where_ was Ladybug? "Gotta her safe. Friends too." The girl's hands were trembling; the purple-black of the ruler was wavering, rising. Time to gamble. "Can I tell you about _my_ chérie? Will that help you think happy thoughts?"

The girl half-smiled. "Love her, huh?"

Rose let herself sigh happily. "She's the _best_ ," she told the girl. "She's so brave—she's so quiet no one ever notices _how_ brave. She's—it's the little things, you know? I'll open my locker and I'll find she's slipped an origami rose inside. Or she'll put candy on my desk. Dark chocolate with sea salt. She always remembers."

Little things. Things that didn't matter much to Hawkmoth. (Probably.) That wouldn't trace back to Juleka. (Probably.)

"She likes scary stories. I _don't_ —" Rose shuddered overdramatically. The girl lifted her quivering hand as though to comfort Rose, and stopped. "But I'm okay if she's right there with me," Rose continued, smiling. "And I'll find her new music. Today we're listening to a Seanan McGuire CD I ripped for her. It's all fairy tales and fantasy and folklore. Want to know what the title song is?" She winked at the girl.

"Tell me," murmured the girl.

" 'Wicked Girls Saving Ourselves'," said Rose, and grinned, remembering (too late) when the pain burst again that blood would drip on her teeth.

The girl's smile was strained; she was shaking all over. "Stubborn," she muttered, staring over Rose's shoulder. "Like my father. I won't, I _won't_ , I _will n_ —"

The ruler exploded with black-violet smoke.

Rose recoiled—from two meters away, she could see Juleka, concealed in a shadow, and Ivan, tensed for battle, and Ladybug and Chat Noir, running in, and the smoke, covering the girl and hiding her from view—

For a split second, Rose saw the akuma who was the girl, long teal hair spiked around her head and garbed in jagged white and lime—

Her vision filled with rainbow static, and the akuma was gone.

"Great," said Chat Noir irritably. "Lady Wifi, Mark II."

"Mylène," said Ladybug, looking around. "How did—"

"This girl's strong, Ladybug," Ivan interrupted. "She _resisted_. The butterfly's in the ruler, she's probably going for Chloé, and—you need to hear what she said."

Juleka stepped out of the shadow, holding up her phone. "Come talk to me later," she told Ladybug and Chat Noir.

"If we can," Ladybug said.

Rose glared at her. " _As soon as_ you can."

Ladybug startled, staring at her. "Rose, your face—"

"I'm fine!" snapped Rose. "Akuma now, Juleka next!'

"Got it," said Chat Noir. "Who's the akuma?"

"New student?" Rose said.

"If I didn't know better," Juleka added, "I'd wonder if Adrien had a sister."

Ladybug's attention snapped to Chat Noir. Chat Noir's snapped to Ladybug.

"Oh, sweet Sequana," said Chat Noir, with much the same air with which Ladybug said "Fuck."

"Well," Chat Noir continued, "at least we know how to irritate her into coming for us and leaving Chloé alone."

"We do?" said Ladybug, and Rose didn't know whether that was a good sign or a bad one.

"Yeah. Think you can Charm me up a megaphone?"

Ladybug gave Chat Noir a flat look. "Me and what cookies?"

He winced. "Right. Intercom system?"

"I don't want to know," said Ladybug, already running off.

* * *

Mme. Maçon's voice rambled on. Adrien couldn't truthfully say he was hearing a word of the English grammar lecture. Maybe he and Marinette could get coffee after school? He might feel bett—

The intercom crackled on: "Attention, the artist previously known as Catherine Émile," said Adrien's own voice, and Adrien bolted upright. Marinette, across the room, stared at him. "Ladybug and Chat Noir request your presence in the courtyard. Oh and by the way: _Grass mud horse._ And to the students and staff of Lycée Anaïs Nin: Please forgive the interruption, evacuate the premises in a calm and orderly manner while avoiding the courtyard, and have a beautiful day!"

Mme. Maçon looked over her class. "You heard Chat Noir," she said, shrugging, and students began to collect their bags.

"Grass mud horse," repeated Adrien, incredulous, and thunked his head on the desk.

"What am I missing?" Marinette asked, coming over to Adrien, whose legs weren't cooperating.

Adrien snorted. "A really obscene pun that's going to infuriate her once she's thinking clearly enough to figure it—"

He stopped. Pulled out his phone. Marinette rolled her eyes, grabbed up his bag along with hers, snagged him by the arm, and dragged him stumbling out of the room.

> **_#fivespots_ **
> 
> **gravitylawbreaker**  
>  did we ever figure out how much Hawkmoth can find out from someone by akumatizing them?

"Not that I remember," Marinette told him, following the flow of students.

"Marinette?" said Adrien, quietly, once they were out of the building and headed for a nearby café in the wake of several other terminale students with the same idea.

Marinette glanced his way. "Yeah?"

"This _sucks_."

"Yeah."

**Author's Note:**

> I had a whole outline, but (as of date of posting, 2019 December 31) I haven't touched this fic in over a year, and there might still be something here y'all enjoy. If you want to continue, have at (Socchan certainly isn't going to object); I'm not sure what I _did_ with my outline and wouldn't want to restrict your creative freedom anyway, but I do remember if I'd gotten enough farther, the archive warnings would look different on account of taking "deadname" literally, and as always I was planning a happy ending.
> 
> Find me on [Dreamwidth](https://alexseanchai.dreamwidth.org/) and [Tumblr](https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/).


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